The Devil's Debt
by Scotch-Mist
Summary: A one-off, it can also be read as a link between two of my other stories, The Darkness Before The Dawn, and Fallen Empires. Set between S4 and S5.


THE DEVIL'S DEBT

It was the sounds that affected him the most this time. Strange, that. The sound of a mug being scraped across a table. The remains of a meal being cleared away. The normal household sounds of a morning. But then...they weren't exactly a normal household, were they...

He kept his eyes closed, waiting for the peace and quiet to return. It was how he spent most days, sitting patiently in the chair. No other option, really. How many days was it now...He feigned sleep, most of the time. Sleep...that was a laugh. At this stage of the bitter game, it came in fits...when the tremors eased; the tightness in his jaw lessening...his kind didn't deserve the luxury of rest. The darkest night hadn't been when he'd sworn like the soldier he'd been so long ago, straining so hard against his tethers that the cuffs had drawn blood...the ghost had whispered;

"Hal...your wrists..." He didn't notice the pain. He'd suffered much worse in the past, and caused far worse to others...Instead, he cursed every human being he had ever met, raving in a foreign tongue, that neither of his housemates could understand. They sat on the stairs, side by side, as the vampire railed at the world.

"What d'ya think...? Me dad knew some Polish builders..." muttered the wolf. The ghost shrugged her shoulders.

"Could be Transylvanian Twist for all I know..."

Nor had it been when he had snapped at the ghost for having the temerity to bring him a mug of white tea. He'd taken a mouthful, then spat it back up at her.

"Stupid bitch...stupid fu..." The blow from the wolf had been swift.

"Language, Hal...you told us to do it..." he said it mildly, ignoring the look of sheer hatred the vampire had flashed at him, as though he were his worst enemy...whilst the real enemy chuckled unseen in the dark...waiting to tear at him again...

Not even when he'd submitted to the indignity of having the wolf shave him, only for the idiot to cut his cheek.

"_You..."_ he'd hissed the syllable out...The wolf hadn't even blinked.

"Sorry, mate..." The vague memory of someone doing this years' ago...in a barber's shop...what was the name...

No. The darkest night had been when he'd sat quietly, tamely even, never moving for hours on end, his black eyes fixed on a smear on the wall opposite. The absolute concentration...The only movement he'd made all night was to open his mouth, bare his fangs, and hiss out a breath. The line between the monster and the man was a fine one. He'd been unaware that the ghost was there, watching him in the dark. The light hurt his old eyes now; every sense was vying for his attention. Often they would surge through him, all at once, like an electrical storm...each one fighting to get to the surface...to inflict the most pain...

The ghost in the shadows...she didn't sleep, either, her kind seemed to be cursed that way. Always on...always there...no rest for the wicked...or the innocent...

The front she displayed so often, her own mask, seemed to have slipped. She walked towards him hesitantly. He'd apologised profusely, for what he didn't know. If she found his silences so disturbing, she would have no chance with his rages...He listened to her calmly, pretending interest in her observations.

"It was as though...you weren't here...like...you didn't have a soul..." He'd smiled his most beguiling smile, the one that had reeled in so many over the years. He leant forward in the chair, as far as the tethers would reach, the hunger, and the cruelty surfacing.

"I..._don't_..." he whispered, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "I am not a man of God...I am not a man of God..." he repeated the sentence over and over, like a mantra, then laughed.

He'd warned them what would happen. He would go through phases...the pleading, the whining, the bartering, the conniving, the shaking, the snapping, the desperate begging to be released...They had smiled, nodded their heads, not quite grasping the situation, the true reality of helping a blood addict detox. There were reasons few vampires chose willingly to withdraw from blood, and for an Old One to even attempt it...the urge to feed, and to kill, was so deep a part of their make-up, so ingrained in them...so many lives taken...He'd attempted to count the number of victims. He'd given up...closed his eyes, and sat back in the chair, defeated. The hunger would always win...no...Not this time...The ghost and the wolf had stayed so far, no matter what he threw at them.

"You're our mate, Hal. I know you don't mean it," the wolf had said, his trusting eyes...too trusting...

"Yeah," said the ghost. "You told us you'd be like this..." But she gripped the edge of her jacket a little too tightly; he noticed the little things when he was granted a precious moment of peace. He focused on the details, forcing his brain to work. It worked, more often than not, his faculties would slowly return. And when it didn't...The hunger could rage for hours, at full tilt, then ease its hold, as though it needed to rest as much as he did.

Oh...her blood had tasted...like Heaven...like Hell...he could just about taste it still, on the very tip of his tongue...the small, cut-glass draft...and the maggot-ridden leftovers on the grimy floor of the nightclub's cellar...sheer bliss...after so long...so very long...

Then he remembered the cold horror he'd felt, seeing her trussed up, like a piece of...he'd done the same thing to...what was Cutler's wife's name...it was there in his brain somewhere...The pain he'd felt...another innocent in the long, deadly game...

"I'm sorry, Alex...Tom...I'm not myself..." He meant it too, for once.

_Oh...but that's not true...Hal..._

"Who said that?" His head shot to one side, then the other, trying to pinpoint the source, his eyes showing a just a glimmer of fear...The ghost had rolled her eyes.

"Here we go..." she glanced sideways at the wolf.

"Wait...you didn't hear..." The vampire's eyes darted over their faces, searching for the truth.

"Hear what, Hal?" asked the wolf, a look of consternation on his face. The ghost stared at the vampire for a long moment, then she laid one hand on the wolf's shoulder.

"O-kay...Can you help me in the kitchen, Tom..." The wolf caught her tone. They both turned to look at him, beaming smiles at him, as though he didn't know what they were thinking...The first signs of madness...

He could hear them talking in the kitchen. He could imagine the sight that would greet him if he looked in there now. Everything would be out of place, untidy...he glanced around the living room...mug rings everywhere...newspapers...had they never heard of recycling? The dust on the bar...The ghost was opening cupboards, dragging jars and tins out of position, then slamming the doors with her temper. Every sound grated on him, shocks of pain had begun to saw at every nerve in his body. He closed his eyes, wearily.

I can do this...I've done it before...

_But they are not Leo..._

The voice was so soft...like a feather being blown onto his face...

_Or Pearl even..._

"No," he whispered, his throat taut. "You're not real..."

A laugh in reply.

He could hear them still clattering about in the kitchen. He started to grind his teeth in frustration, they would move everything around, and didn't they know that he'd spent hours making everything "just so". Everything had its place...if it didn't; there would be chaos...disorder...mayhem...

_Oh you and your routines, Hal..._

The voice came from nearby, he was certain. He jerked his head round, feverish now. His eyes frantically searched the room...but it was empty.

There is no one there, he told himself. They often forgot how acute his hearing could be, an unwelcome stab of anger jabbed at him, as he tried to shut their voices out. That and the fact there was a wide open serving hatch right next to the set of doors...

"We could phone one of them lines...you know...ask them what..." Something that sounded like a glass jar was smashed down on the counter. The vampire opened his eyes, and let out a sigh.

"...we should do with a detoxing five hundred year old vampire?" The ghost could be very waspish, when she chose, he thought.

"Yeah, Tom, I'm sure NHS Direct has someone who can help..." And sarcastic too, sometimes he could quite understand why Cutler had...he let out a breath. That was unkind.

"Well...it is Barry...Hal's lot probably run it..." A rare joke from the wolf. He heard snorts of shared laughter, a release of tension. They didn't understand. How could they? The wolf was speaking again.

"We could say...we have a...friend..." An exasperated "huh".

"A murdering, five hundred year old, Old One...tied up in the living room...who just happened to drink my blood..."

Oh, he sighed bitterly to himself, she would never let that one go...

_Why should she...?_

The voice was gaining in strength, he was sure of it now. It was only a matter of time before...

"I_ am_ sitting here, you know..." he raised his voice, to make sure they heard him clearly. "I can hear every word..."

The doors to the kitchen swung open. The ghost and the wolf stood together, trying to look as innocent as possible, matching smiles again plastered to their faces.

"Just making some tea, Hal," the ghost said brightly. "Black, a dash of water..." He remembered his manners. At least he could for the moment...

"Thank you, Alex."

"An' clearing out a few things," chipped in the wolf. He straightened in his chair. The caution in his voice, the tension renewing in his muscles...

"Oh...?" The ghost noticed his agitation, the way his eyes sharpened... She stepped forward.

"Just some out-of-date stuff...those daft wee jars people buy for meals, then never use..." The wolf looked down at his feet, then mumbled;

"An' some more of Eve's stuff..." The vampire turned his attention towards the wolf. It was time, after all. The child was gone, along with the only mother she'd really known. A brief life, a candle that had burnt so brightly. The hopes and fears that had rested on her little shoulders...only to be extinguished in the fireball that had ripped through Stoker's...the past, present and future obliterated in that one act...one future gone...another beginning…

He'd watched the wolf pack away her clothes, saw him take a set of tools up the stairs, to take down her cot. The clothes had gone to the charity shop, but the dismantled cot remained upstairs, for now.

"You never know..." the wolf had commented, the long-held dream of a family still alive. The pack...The vampire held his tongue, keeping his own thoughts behind his well-worn mask, his own 'family' had gone up with Annie and Eve in that explosion as well. His human family, such as it was, had long ago turned to dust. Which one had been his mother...? Did it really matter, anyway...?

_No...You are what you are..._

Such a seductive voice...soothing, almost...

He closed his eyes again. The room suddenly felt so warm, the very air felt stifling...

I can't breathe...I can't...

He longed to be free of his restraints...free of it all...his mouth was so dry...his throat felt raw...

The ghost was standing in front of him, a mug of black tea in her hand. She dropped a straw into the mug, and angled it towards his mouth. He drained the mug quickly, avoiding her gaze, hating every minute of having to rely on other people to function. Pride was something he could no longer afford.

_Pride comes before a fall..._

"You're very kind, Alex. Thank you." She smiled at him, then turned away, clearly a little embarrassed. He felt a twisting in his gut, then a sudden attack of nausea hit him. He willed the tea to stay down...

_That's not what you need..._

His body was still adjusting to the lack of fresh human blood. It constantly screamed at him for just another sip...one more...and the pain would go...the regrets...the useless regrets...would disappear...the crystal clear images that seared through his brain...would end...everything would be alright...

_Yes..._

He knew that he had to hold on, to keep those images in his head, they were a necessity...he had to be reminded...he had to keep...He was nearly at the stage where he would beg to be staked, to be put out of his misery...the hunger was digging in to every nerve, twisting its way in, as it always did...and the voice would get louder and louder...

Mind over matter, he told himself, focusing on the domino in his left hand. The ridges...the dots...It slipped from his fingers, damp with sweat, and fell under the chair...

It is not who I am...I am stronger than it...

The feelings of nausea gradually subsided. He focused on his breathing, taking deeper and deeper breaths, and releasing each one slowly, until he felt lightheaded. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, his body was relaxing once more, sleep was coming...

"Hal...mate..." He felt his shoulder being touched, and he flinched. The wolf was standing to his right.

"Blimey...that were a long one...you must've needed it..." His sense of smell kept coming and going, but he should have smelt the wolf...a dog...near him...

No...he is not a dog...

He held the thought in his mind.

He is the bravest man I know...

He could smell something though...something...The wolf's eager voice cut in.

"I'm cooking summat. Tryin' it out..." The wolf seemed happy. The little boy lost in the woods...He made a show of shutting his eyes, the better to guess what delightful concoction was in the oven.

"Hmm..." he frowned, deep in concentration. "Do I detect...thyme...rosemary...?" He opened his eyes. The wolf was nodding, his eyes shining.

He smiled politely. A hundred and one meals with minced beef...shepherd's pie...cottage pie...something called 'spag bog'...the wolf tried, but his grasp of fine cooking was...rudimentary to say the least...

_A little picky, aren't we, considering our last proper meal contained wriggling maggots..._

A dark smile crossed his face.

No...I won't play...

"Making another pie too..." There was another scent...sweet and spicy...something warming...

_Yes..._

Cinnamon...apples...?

_Yes..._

A cake, sitting on a large, wooden table. A fine bone china teapot sat next to it. An immaculate kitchen, well-stocked, in more ways than one...1855...a country house with far more servants than was strictly necessary...the sport they'd had...the entire household...Fergus lapping and fawning, in equal measure, at his heels, basking in his reflected glory...the one remaining maid in the house, set ready and waiting for him...

_Yes..._

Lord Harry...and his black, black heart...what was the girl's name...

_It doesn't matter..._

He swiftly closed his eyes, sensing the blackness in them. His breath quickened, he took in rapid gulps of air, as he tried to regain control.

_Yes...that's it Hal...control..._

_Body...and soul..._

"You're not real...a figment of my imagination...a hallucination..." he whispered, his eyes on the retreating wolf, as he sauntered back to the kitchen.

_Oh, you and your books, Hal...When was the last time you felt alive?_

The question struck him, unexpected as it was. He braved it out.

"Every day..."

_When you felt warm..._

_When you felt wanted..._

He hesitated.

"I can't remember."

_The truth, Hal..._

"Stoker's..." It was out before he could stop himself. Just saying the name felt like a betrayal.

_Yes...your brothers and sisters...your master...your family...where you were meant to be...where you belonged..._

"I won't..." his eyes frantically went to his housemates in the kitchen.

_Yes you will..._

He felt the burning in his veins increase. The nightmares would begin again soon. Every face, every pair of fine eyes...in vivid colour...every shameful deed...playing over and over again...until he wanted to claw the eyes from his head...they didn't tell you about that aspect of it...no...Eternal life, yes, but there's a price...just a little detail...nothing important...The voices...even the scents, for God's sake...the rank streets...amber lights...an anonymous face in a teeming crowd...Just a word, and those years fell away, like a pack of dominoes rattling down...revealing another victim...waiting their turn...

_Poor lost Hal..._

"Hal...?" The ghost's voice brought him back. He longed to scratch at his face, at the beard that had grown so quickly. The itch annoyed him; oh to be free for just a second to scratch at his chin. After the shaving 'incident', he had been unable to bear anyone touching his face. It had been the same with...with Leo...he remembered it now...

"Yes, Alex?" She was watching him a little warily, he thought. She was much better at gauging his moods than the wolf...

"I was just wondering, if you'd be ok, if I...I need some time to myself...I mean...you're fine...just now...aren't you?" She didn't like asking, he could tell. It was still so new to her, the supernatural. It was easy to forget that, she usually seemed so comfortable in her new...life...He knew she'd gone to see if her family were still where she'd left them, that fateful last time...she hadn't spoken about it, or them since.

"I just wanted one good thing..."

He stared at her, knowing exactly how she felt. She and the wolf were as tied to this house, as he was to the damn chair...neither was keen to leave him alone, his dire warnings at what would happen if they did, had clearly had an effect. He looked down at the floor, at some crumbs that lay in front of him.

"I know I'm a...burden...Alex..."

"No, you're not..." she said smoothly, shaking her head.

"You and Tom...you both do so much for me, much more than I deserve..."

_Such self-pity...are you a vampire, or a mouse?_

"Yes...go, Alex...I'll be fine. Some fresh air will do you good. You're a little pale..." She laughed.

"Well...I am dead...and Scottish...so not much difference..." She really did have a beautiful smile...

"Tom will be here, if you need anything..." she was practically out the door, as she said it. He called after her.

"Where are you going?" She stopped at the front door, amused at his sudden paternal tone.

"The beach. The sky's so blue today...the cafe there...the ice cream was so good...if I hang about, someone's bound to order it...I touch them, and..." He allowed himself a smile. She was so young, but with an old head on her shoulders. Annie had taught her well, in the few hours they'd spent together...

"I made the assistant scream the last time. Made a beginner's mistake...I was trying to smell the flavour...I forgot about...you know...the spoon...floating..." she motioned with her hand. The wolf came out of the kitchen.

"Look…I don't like leavin' him like this..." She huffed a little.

"You mean you don't like being left alone with him. No offence, Hal…" He raised his eyebrows, but let the slight pass. She continued with what felt like a list…

"I have hidden all the sharp, pointy objects. I checked that there are no programmes about small fluffy or feathered things...there's one about antiques, then there's one about house-hunting...he likes those ones…he can yell at the television…" It was too much.

"I am _still_ sitting here…and I don't yell…" he said tightly. The two housemates looked at each other.

"Not much…" He let out a groan.

"I mean…really…when they say "I want a cottage in the country…" The wolf looked to one side, mumbling;

"Here we go again…"

"It has small rooms…there's beams everywhere…the ceilings are too low…oh, I'll need to investigate the area…like its some den of iniquity…" he paused for a breath. "Granted, most of Yorkshire may be, and Lancashire, and the Border counties…well…even vampires wouldn't go out after dark in some of those…" The wolf and the ghost were smiling. A piece of the old Hal was showing, at last. It made the difficult times easier to bear...

"And as for that so-called gentleman...never trust someone who looks more wooden than the furniture he is trying to sell you...in fact...never trust anyone with a tan..." The ghost tried to suppress a laugh.

"As opposed to trusting pale-faced men?" She was making fun of him, he knew, but he wouldn't rise to it.

"Now you're being facetious, Alex. It does not suit you..."

"Who drink your blood...?" He let out a deep sigh. He felt like hitting his head off the bar.

"This again...how much longer...I have apologised...I was not the one who killed you..."

_"Eternity_, Hal..."

"That was Cutler..."

"Who you killed, recruited, then had him drink his wife's blood...I'm sensing a theme here..."

"Well..." he caught the nudge she gave the wolf. _Humour..._

"I'll be fine. Tom is…a fine gaoler, Alex...take care." He said it quietly, as she closed the door behind her. They still didn't know who was out there. He had a strange sensation of being watched, studied, but that could just be...he shook his head, as if he could clear it from such dark thoughts. The vampires seemed to have vanished. That wouldn't last long. The shock would wear off soon. He wondered how Head Office was dealing with the...situation...if there really was still a Head Office at all...he hoped they would be left alone now...if Marina had her way, they would be...he wondered if she was responsible, if she had given a 'do not touch' order…

_She'll fail..._

"No...She won't...she's strong..." he snapped at the voice, hating the way it wormed its way into his thoughts. He forced himself to concentrate. His body felt so sluggish, at times, almost lethargic, as the hunger lessened its grip.

He jolted upright, at the sound of the phone ringing. People rarely called the house, and his kind tended to batter at a front door...The wolf answered it quickly.

"Yeah...I can't mate...Hal's still..."

What had they come up with, as a way of explaining his long-term absence from the cafe...Ah yes...? At first the wolf had said he was attending a family funeral...in a foreign country...technically true...Wales was a foreign country to him, and before his detox had begun, he had gone back to stand outside Stoker's, that was as close to a funeral as the Old Ones would ever receive...then he had 'man flu'...whatever that was...The wolf had been covering as many shifts as he could, but the cafe owner had told him that the 'posh git' could take a run and jump, if he didn't get his backside in soon...he'd heard every word, as the wolf had held the phone away from his ear at the rant...

"Takin' a lend, he is...Yeah...I'm telling him Mam...Only reason I'm lettin' it go this time, we got a cracking inspection from the council...they nearly shut me down last time..."

He had to admit that was one of the benefits of his 'sick leave', not to have to deal with that odious little…He didn't miss the smell of onions under his fingernails, either. No matter how hard he scrubbed at his nails, it lingered on his skin and clothes. He always wore gloves when preparing food, how did it get there? The congealed fat that he'd scraped out of that grill, it turned his stomach. Not to mention the toilets…He missed the daily routine, though...mind-numbing to most, but vital to his…recovery? No, that was the wrong word. It was a...coping mechanism…Christ, those magazines of...of...he stumbled for the name...Pearl's...He blinked, remembering her name. Pearl and Leo...a flat above a barber's shop...he looked down at his fingers, remembering pushing razors and scissors into neat rows, below a mirror he cast no reflection in...A box of dominoes on a table...home…

He waited for the voice to laugh, to call him out, to denounce him as weak...But all that he heard was the wolf remonstrating with whoever was on the other end of the phone. He disliked phones intensely, the 'answer me now' ring tones, disturbing his equilibrium…

"Mate…you awake?"

"I am now, Tom," he muttered, but there was no sharpness in his tone. The wolf shrugged.

"Yeah, sorry, that was…"

"The café…you have to go in, don't you?" The wolf nodded. The vampire sighed to himself. What part of 'do not leave a detoxing vampire unattended,' did they not understand? He chided himself instantly for it; he knew that without his own miserly wage coming in, the household was pretty…what was the phrase the ghost had used…?

"Brassic...and I might point out, I don't eat anything, unlike you two…"

He stared at the wolf, weighing up his options. If the house was secured, to keep people out as much as to keep him contained...he would welcome the cool, quiet of an empty house…

"Tom, Alex will be back soon enough. No doubt with a tale of how she scared yet another shop assistant out of her wits…" The wolf grinned.

"Well she ain't got much…an' if she does, then there'll be a job going there, all the ice cream you can eat…" The vampire let out a dry laugh.

"Always a silver lining. I could do with some time to myself, Tom. It gets…a little claustrophobic...in here…" The wolf understood that, the need to get out, to feel properly alive...but he was wary.

"Tighten the bonds…I will be fine…for a very short while, you understand…" The wolf exhaled loudly; glad he was taking it so well. They needed the money, the rent, still in George Sands' name officially, was well overdue. Then there was the electric...they'd already had to put off one meter reader, the supplier being very keen to investigate some unusual spikes in their usage...

He let out an involuntary gasp, as he felt the cuffs tighten on his wrists. The wolf was testing the tension of the restraints. Had he drifted off again? Time seemed to be slowing down...The wolf was asking him something.

"Can ya still feel your fingers?" The vampire flexed his fingers; there was still some feeling there, but not much. He nodded, resignedly.

"Just." The wolf stood back, a pleased grin on his face.

"I won't be long..."

He heard the door slam, the key being turned in the lock...then all was quiet.

The TV...he'd forgotten to...he ground his teeth together in annoyance. Why say you were going to do something, and not do it? He looked down at the floor, at the crumbs that still lay there, unnoticed by everyone except him. He raised his eyes, surveying his 'home'. He already knew every inch of this room, every piece of clutter, every mark on the skirting. Tied to the chair, there was little to do but focus on his surroundings, because if he looked inside himself, he would...That was the problem. He had too much time to think...

His gaze fell on the tropical mural on the wall. Hawaiian Blue screamed back at him. The scene should have soothed him, wasn't water meant to do that...He closed his eyes, relieved to be alone at last. The constant need to pretend that everything was...normal...drained him. He took one deep breath, after another...He felt...safe...he felt calmer now...he had done it before...he could do it again...

A fragrance...something familiar...sweet...flowery...

Yes...orange blossom...warmth...enveloping him...he was dreaming...he didn't want to wake up...

_You will..._

His eyes snapped open. He could feel tremors beginning, running down through his body. He tried to stave off the shakes that would begin in his hands soon, flexing his fingers until they stiffened, then quickening the pace. The hunger had been waiting for this...for his gaolers to leave...he licked his lips, knowing the craving would hit him hard any moment. The past few weeks had been practice, only, he knew that now. He could smell the orange blossom so strongly now...the scent made him want to...he pushed down the bile, knowing that the faces that would appear soon. He lowered his eyes to the floor...he wanted to cry out, but he wouldn't let...it...hear him...his hands were shaking so much...if only he had a domino...why hadn't he asked the wolf to retrieve the tile?

_Because you didn't want him to know how weak you are..._

The voice was sharper than before, every word was precise.

"You're not real..." he almost screamed the words. It didn't prevent the images appearing in his head. He could almost see them standing in front of him now...taking the forms he knew they would...

The orange blossom...the wedding feast...

The woman dressed in blue...blue for purity...for eternal love...so beautiful, with the flowers in her hair...apart from the gaping wounds in her neck...the man standing beside her, the shock so clear on his face...what had they done to deserve...

He remembered every second of that killing spree. The glee he'd experienced at coming upon that inn, its lights blazing. The usual vampire hangers-on tagging along on his coat-tails. Prague...They'd been turned away at first, that was what had decided the wedding party's fate...a toss of a coin...heads...they live...tails...

"A private party, sir..." The unctuous innkeeper, regretted to say. His fine clothes and his air of respectability had won the day though, when the bride caught his smile. Her happiest day...and her last on this earth...She took a gulp of wine, raised her glass, already drowsy with the heat and the atmosphere, and shouted the invitation. He'd accepted it with a smile, not yet an Old One...

"Let them in...I want everyone to celebrate..."

And celebrate they had...one glass after the other...and when the ale and the wine ran out...a glass of a different kind...

The smell of orange blossom was pervasive...cloying, sickly sweet...

He remembered swirling her around in his arms, her sudden sense of unease...that something wasn't quite right...as the dance stopped...her startled eyes on her husband, as he slumped forward...then her screams as she saw his blood seep across the tablecloth...as it reached the bottom of her glass...

"Ah...Marina never could wait for her meal..."

He had given her a long drawn-out death, enjoying the feelings of being utterly in control of another person...her distraught whispers;

"We never even..." she stuttered, her eyes darting wildly round the room in growing horror...

"Yes?" He replied softly, his lips to her neck.

"...the wedding night..." He felt her tears fall down onto his own cheek.

"Why didn't you say so, my dear?" His voice so assured. "You will have your wedding night...I promise you..." The piercing screams that rung from her, as he carried her up the stairs, to a chorus of laughing from the other vampires...He'd finally let her die as dawn broke, pulling the tattered flowers from her hair, and scattering them over her cold, dead body...

"I'm sorry...I'm not that...vampire...anymore...You're not real, anyway, you're not real..." Her sad face...her haunted eyes...boring into his...

"I can't bring you back...I'm sorry..." his voice cracked with emotion, but the figure remained, cold and distant...

_How touching..._

He was so close to it now...the first test...

The images melted away. Another took their place. A woman with anger in her eyes.

Sophia...

He lowered his eyes, not wanting to see the injuries he'd caused. He'd tortured her for days, searching for the still human Marina...she'd cheated him, and run...the hunt was on and he never let go...

He heard a cough. That wasn't right...he looked up slowly. The image was no longer in his head. He wasn't ready for this...he wasn't strong enough yet...She was standing in front of him, with those baleful eyes...such a strong, vivid spectre...her hate driving her on...

"You took her son..."

"He was dying...I..." he said weakly, aware of how pathetic his excuses would sound.

"You used him as a pawn..." He shook his head violently, refusing to play the game.

"I saved him...I gave him..." The cruel tilt of her head...

"You gave him cruelty...and hunger...then when she did the right thing..." she took a single step towards him. "You hounded her to her death...you took an innocent soul and you made her a killer..." She took another step. "Everyone she ever cared about..." Tears of frustration rolled down her face, streaking down over the bruises..."You should have staked her when she came to you...you want forgiveness, Mr Yorke...a reprieve?" She hurled her words at him. "You think you can even the score? Fifty-five years of sobriety, living with a werewolf and a ghost, hiding away...that's your penance? You think you deserve mercy for that? How many pleaded with you for their lives? Begged you on their very knees to let their loved ones go? And what did you do..." She knelt at his feet, her eyes at the same level as his. "You laughed at their humanity and their grief...as you tore them apart..." Her gaze fell on his tethers. She gave him a scornful smile.

"Do you remember what you did to me..." she asked softly. "When it was all done and dusted...when I was no further use to you...Marina nearly in your grasp...what did you do, Hal..."

He remembered. How could he forget? Tugging the rope...as she swung upwards...her feet free of the stool she'd tried so hard to stay on top of...

"Yes..."

"You trapped me in life, and you trapped me in death..." He could feel her cold breath on his face, her pale green eyes...It wasn't real...it was...it was lies...

"Lies?!" She turned away, furious, the resentment clear in her voice. His head felt so heavy, like a deadweight upon his shoulders.

"Lies?! What you did to me? You killed me, then you trapped my spirit, remember? The salt round the..." She reeled with temper. "You knew she would come to me, she had nowhere else to go...you'd made sure of that..."

"I didn't mean...I meant this isn't real," he snarled. "Show yourself..." He yanked at the cuffs. The chair groaned, but the restraints held. He could feel the perspiration run down his back, his clothes were clinging to him now, he wanted to tear then from his skin...

Sophia's answering look was glacial. Then a smile of pure malevolence spread over her face, her eyes full of spite.

"Poor lost Hal..." she mocked, "...all alone in the dark..."

"I'm not alone," he protested, "I have..." She raised her chin.

"Friends? Ha! They couldn't wait to leave you...they won't want anything to do with Lord Harry, will they? They won't want you anywhere near them...they will run from you..."

"Show yourself!" He growled it this time, the tethers nearly at breaking point.

_Do you want it to stop?_

The voice again. So soft, so kind, so understanding...Infinitely patient, his one true friend...He resisted the temptation to accept it...to let it in...

_Don't you mean, let me out...?_

"I...said...SHOW YOURSELF..." Sophia looked to her right, a wicked smile on her features.

_Yes...my love..._

The image of Sophia began to fade...the room fell quiet...the only sound was a ticking clock...

A rustle of a woman's skirts...he heard it distinctly. He saw a familiar shadow, just out of reach. It walked to the centre of the room. He hesitated to look up at it, as though it could be wished away if he thought hard enough. He knew the face that would meet his. They'd met before.

He slowly raised his head, his eyes taking in the ruffles of crimson silk of the dress, the deathly pale skin, the garnets blazing around her neck...the almond-shaped hazel eyes in such a beautiful face...the cruellest of all...

"Hello, Hal." The voice so warm, so inviting. "It's been a while..."

"Fifty-five years..." he acknowledged, unwilling to look in her eyes, those haunted, possessed eyes...

She seemed to understand his reluctance, turning instead to gaze at his surroundings. He risked a glance at her. Her long brown hair was bound loosely at the nape of her neck. She never aged, never changed, through all the years...

"You're not real..." he whispered weakly. She stopped in her tracks. He could see a sly smile on those sweet lips. Don't look in her eyes...

"Am I not? Hmm..." She walked over to the couch, and ran a finger down one of the arms. "Really, Hal...is this what we are reduced to...this dismal..." she straightened a cushion. "We had a castle, once...minions at our beck and call..." she gave a weary sigh. "But then, we've stayed in much worse places...barns...hovels...brothels..." The knowing glint in her darkening eyes...he averted his eyes quickly. She always knew just where to twist the dagger.

"They really don't know how lucky they are, these days, do they? Humans, I mean...Heat at the touch of a button, water from a tap, hot and cold running water at that...You remember the old days, don't you Hal? Jugs of water so cold, you had to break the ice on the surface every morning..." Her elegant head turned slowly. "Though there were...compensations...I recall...the occasional hot and cold running housemaids..." A malicious smile. "Such fun..." She cast her eyes around the room again.

"There's an atmosphere here that's decidedly...odd..." her eyes hardened as she said it. "Can't you feel it, Hal?" She gathered her skirts and walked towards him like a cat, smooth as silk. He stared resolutely at the floor.

"A lot of doors were opened here...did they all close, I _wonder_..." He looked up quickly, just as she tilted her head away. "Several humans...but more importantly...vampires..." She stressed the last word, as her eyes fell on the spot where...

"Cutler...your own...We were very cruel to him, weren't we? And Fergus...falling for that old trick...he never did have our cunning, did he? So many vampires...it'll be double figures soon..." She raised her eyebrows, a speculative look on her face.

"They should put up a plaque...a _red_ one...Vampires, abandon all hope, ye who enter here...a true house of death..." The sting in her tone. He shivered with what he hoped was cold, if the cravings started now...

"You're not real...this is merely...the hunger...manifesting itself..." She laughed gently at his insistence.

"Oh my love...deluded as ever...you know what I am...you know who I am..."

My hunger...he thought to himself...

"Every vampire has some...form...some image that they associate with me...for some it's a black dog...but I find that incredibly insulting, given my relationship with dogs...and their filthy curse..."

"Wolves..." he countered. He was so weak; he hadn't expected the first test so soon. He saw her lift up a pair of books from behind the bar. She rifled through one, then the other, smiling indulgently.

"That explains it. You've been studying. A little too much Freud, not enough Faust, Hal..." She laid the books down on the counter. "Do they read to you, your new little familiars...your new gaolers...?"

"It passes the time," he thought he could hear more of a resolve in his voice now. She moved closer towards him. He could almost smell her sweet, dark perfume...no...

"This is all in my head...you're trying to trick me...to tempt me..." his forehead felt like it was burning, he felt so clammy...

"Trying to tempt you? Are you really playing this tired old game with me? This dance is a little old, too, Hal...we take a turn every fifty or so years...you always let me out eventually...you chose this...you were given the choice...to accept the bargain...eternal life...in exchange for..."

"My soul..." he said quietly, his mind on the past, on a battlefield, his life ebbing away...a battlefield he could never escape from...

She touched his face. It sent shockwaves through his nerve-endings.

"No...I won't..." his voice cracked.

"You will," she said patiently. "You opened the door when you took that sip..." He felt the hunger that burned constantly inside every vein, ramp up in intensity, as his nerves began to scream...

"Let me out...let me rage...it will all go away...you've kept me in the dark for so long...then you gave me that taste of..."

An image of Leo and Pearl together, in the barber's shop...his...friends...

_Yes...but they are gone, Hal..._

He felt her lips on his temple, cooling his brow.

_That's what they don't understand...the new ghost and the new wolf...and they never will...what I really am to you...I am eternal...I am the first and the last thing you think about...I am with you, when you wake...I am with you when you sleep...such dark dreams...crimson and fire...I am your own true friend, in the darkness and in the light...I am always with you...and always will be...my brightest, darkest star...it is your time now..._

"NO!" He strained to pull away from her. The skin on his wrists felt damp...the cuffs had drawn blood again.

_The times will be dark and terrible...and sweet, so sweet..._

Do not believe her lies...It's lies...I am the one in control...

He felt her lips on his neck. A shiver ran through him again.

_You know what that is...Hal...that's a pang of desire...you remember that one, don't you? The one you button down so tight...that succubus so nearly brought you back to me...and Kirby, too...his games...you recognised them, for what they were, but he still brought you so close to...coming back..._

He could hear voices...were they real ones...?

_Am I not kind? I forgive these misguided notions...these childish games of regret and abstinence...so unnecessary...you are what you are...why deny it? Why deny me?_

He was sure he could hear a Scottish accent...Alex...yes, Alex...his...friend...another voice...what accent did the wolf have...Tom...the bravest...man he'd ever known...

_I can make it all go away...Let me out...you know what to do...lie...cheat...They've never seen the real you...never seen you cut free from your bonds..._

The voice grew more insistent, at the sound of a key in the lock.

_They will leave you...just like Pearl...just like Leo...but I will be here...waiting..._

He felt her lips on his. He finally summoned up the courage to look in her eyes. She was staring intently into his, such a sorrowful expression in those hazel eyes.

_It's so near the surface now...who will claw their way out..._

The key turned with a click.

She faded into nothing, but a whisper...

_I'm the only true friend you have...I am always there...I haven't finished with you yet, Hal...I haven't even started..._


End file.
